


Time To Bring The Fire Down

by verhalen



Series: Seeds of Fire [10]
Category: Flameborn (Multiverse), Flameborn Omegaverse, TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alpha Finarfin, Alpha Fingolfin, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Come Eating, Coming of Age, Double Anal Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Finarfin/Cake OTP, Finwe's A+ Parenting, Finwë Is A Dick, First Time, Food Kink, Food Sex, Gay Sex, Incest, Lactation Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Male Lactation, Multi, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Fëanor, Omega Verse, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spit Roasting, Teasing, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:21:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25176820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verhalen/pseuds/verhalen
Summary: It has been a long time since Fëanor has seen Finarfin, and he is invited to Finarfin's fiftieth birthday party. Finarfin is a man now, and determined to make up for lost time...
Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Finarfin | Arafinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë
Series: Seeds of Fire [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1418458
Comments: 51
Kudos: 52
Collections: Sunshine Challenge





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The words "ana" and "oma" are used in this verse for the Alpha and Omega parent respectively, regardless of gender. Finwë uses Adar/Father per the Valarin custom.
> 
> Alpha Elves do not knot in this verse, sorry.
> 
> ~ ~ ~ ~
> 
>   
> This fulfills [Sunshine Challenge 2020's Prompt #3: Yellow](https://sunshine-challenge.dreamwidth.org/5510.html):
> 
> _Yellow is a bright color that is associated with a variety of things including: joy, enlightenment, enthusiasm, alertness, danger, clarity, summer, expression, deceit, cowardice, confidence, satisfaction, and optimism._
> 
> _Please feel free to answer in whichever way comes naturally to you, be it a memory you share or an artwork you create. If you’d like a more specific idea to kick things off: tell us a story that reminds you of the color yellow or one of its listed qualities._
> 
> Finarfin's hair is, of course, blond, and came to mind here.

_So grow  
Libido throw  
Dominoes of indiscretions down  
Falling all around  
In cycles  
In circles  
Constantly consuming  
Conquer and devour_

_Cause it's time to bring the fire down  
Bridle all this indiscretion  
Long enough to edify  
And permanently fill this hollow_

-"The Hollow", A Perfect Circle

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
  
  
As Fëanor saw his father's palace coming into view, he felt that old sense of dread he'd had for as long as he could remember - it was no home, but a cage, a prison, a place where instead of feeling loved and nurtured and guided his father had tried to break him, and hated him because he couldn't succeed, mostly.  
  
But now the dread was intensified, feeling new and fresh as well as old and stale. Fëanor still couldn't believe that Finarfin had personally invited him to his fiftieth birthday. Finarfin, who he had not seen in years and years, who had not bothered to keep in touch with him. Fëanor supposed that was the influence of their father, who had become devoted to the Valar to the point of fanaticism - it was even worse now than it had been when Fëanor was a child, and it was pretty bad when Fëanor was a child - and Fëanor had no doubt that Finwë had told Finarfin that Fëanor was "a demon who had killed his own mother" and poisoned Finarfin's mind against him, and Finarfin couldn't really be blamed for that. Nonetheless, it had been a sore spot for Fëanor to have his youngest brother go from idolizing him, always exuberant and giddy to see him, to not a single visit, not a single message, and it had increased the distance between Fëanor and Finwë, had caused Fëanor to spend more and more time at his vacation home in Formenos and less and less time in the city. Some of that, of course, was his secret trysting with Fingolfin, making passionate love together far from the watchful eyes of their father and his court. But some of that was just plain hurt.  
  
And now the wound was ripped open all over again as Fëanor's carriage approached the palace, Maedhros and Maglor silent as stones as if they could sense the distress their oma was in.  
  
Nerdanel had not come, even though she was invited too. She could not stand to be under the same roof as Finwë any longer, after Finwë snubbing the name-day party of Maglor decades ago. And she had expressed doubt about the sincerity of Finarfin's invitation. "He probably thinks he can get expensive gifts out of you," Nerdanel scoffed.  
  
The fact of the matter was, Fëanor would be only too happy to give Finarfin the finest of jewelry - costly stones, and a high cost of intense labor - if it meant Finarfin would love him again. He had missed his youngest brother, and he hated their father even more for poisoning the well.  
  
It was hard to think of Finarfin as a man now. Indeed the thought was laughable. Fëanor remembered one of the last times he'd seen Finarfin, at Fingolfin's wedding, getting icing all over his face as he dug into cake like it was the last cake Valinor would ever know. There was no way that hyper, loud, little cake-eating terror was an adult. That seemed outside the realm of possibility.  
  
Of course, Fëanor had done the impossible... Maglor was proof of that, though he and Fingolfin would never admit it to anyone besides Nerdanel, and Maglor himself when he was older and ready to hear the truth about his parentage. Fëanor rubbed his belly. He badly wanted another child, and he was hoping Fingolfin would be there for his next heat. They'd been using herbs since Maglor's birth so Fëanor wouldn't get pregnant again, to give everyone some time between children - especially since Fingolfin had Fingon, with Fëanor's help - but Fëanor was starting to feel ready again. Right now, though, he was feeling a bit feverish, like it was suddenly too warm in the carriage. _Nerves,_ he told himself. _Deep breaths._  
  
The deep breathing just seemed to get him even more tightly wound up inside.  
  
Fëanor was shaking a little when he climbed out of the carriage. He really hoped he wouldn't see his father right away at the door, not wanting his father to see his moment of weakness. Fëanor braced himself as he walked with his sons to the gates, and through.  
  
There was a man sitting in a chair in the foyer, writing on a scroll, looking thoroughly engrossed in what he was doing. Fëanor recognized that intensity - he had that same intensity when he was in his forge, working on projects. But the man looked quite different from Fëanor. He had long waves of pale yellow - almost white - hair and in the play of light and shadow in the foyer, his hair shifted from silvery to gold and back again, like the way the sky changed when the light of the Trees mingled. His hair was magnificent, as was the rest of him, the most beautiful man Fëanor had ever laid eyes on next to Fingolfin himself. A chiseled face, almost haughty, wide-set silver-grey eyes, a full, generous mouth; his blue-and-white tunic and breeches clung to his body all the right ways... the sculpted body of a warrior. Though he was a scholar, judging from the scroll and the concentration as he moved his quill, those arms were the arms of someone who had swung a sword.  
  
And _Hells_ , he smelled delicious. Rain and dew and forest and wildflowers with a touch of animal musk, like innocence defiled, the threat of danger in the peaceful wood.  
  
Fëanor just watched him for a few minutes, breathless, until he realized he was probably being rude by staring. He cleared his throat. "Pardon me," he said in his best court voice. "I am here for my brother Arafinwë's fiftieth birthday. Have you seen my brother? Or my father, perhaps? I wish to greet them." He thought it was odd neither of them were there at the entrance, but then he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that his father wouldn't greet him properly, and would have trained his youngest brother not to as well.  
  
The gorgeous man looked up from his scroll and lifted his eyebrows, looking Fëanor up and down with something like disbelief... and disdain.  
  
Anger flared in Fëanor, as hot as his desire. Just that _look_ was impossibly rude. Fëanor put a hand on his hip. "Well?"  
  
The man chuckled. Fëanor wondered who he was, if this was one of Indis, Ingwë and Anairë's kin. He had a lot to answer for if so, he should know better. The man rose to his feet - he was taller than Fëanor, almost as tall as Fingolfin. "Come along, Fëanor."  
  
Fëanor followed into the hall, but he felt that sting of irritation. "Are you going to answer me?" His irritation intensified with the continued silence. "Who are you? Who do you _think_ you are? _Do you understand who I am?_ " He had no great love for the court and its politics, the games of hierarchy and who was deemed "better" by mere fact of birthright; he normally thought people should be judged on their merits. And yet, the seeming disregard for Fëanor's status, treating him like an equal, was rankling Fëanor in a way that normally wouldn't rankle him. Maybe it was because this was obviously kin of Indis and Ingwë and Anairë, somehow, or maybe it was because he was maddeningly, infuriatingly _attractive_. Fëanor did not want to notice this man's beauty, did not want to be _compelled_ , and here he was, practically drooling on himself like a dog.  
  
The lovely blond man grinned over his shoulder - a cheeky grin, mischief in his eyes. "Your room is eighth on the right, and your sons the ninth room down."  
  
They kept walking in silence; Fëanor paused outside the door of his guest chambers. "That's not an answer."  
  
The man smirked, and shook his head, giving Fëanor another annoyed-yet-amused look before he walked off. "You know nothing, Fëanáro Finwion."  
  
  
_  
  
  
Fëanor's first act of business in his guest chamber after unpacking was to enchant the room with a soundproof barrier. It would both limit the sounds outside the room, and limit what could be heard within the room. This was important not just because excess noise in the halls irritated Fëanor, but he had plans for later that he didn't want his father's servants hearing.  
  
After the spell, Fëanor took some time to himself in his guest chamber to rest, not really sleeping, just laying there, trying to relax after the anxiety attack he'd had approaching the palace. But his thoughts kept straying to that gorgeous man with the attitude problem, and he was angry with himself for feeling that heady mix of desire and fascination.  
  
There was a knock on the door, which Fëanor had allowed through the spell. Fëanor didn't know if it was one of the servants bringing refreshment, or perhaps if it was Finwë himself. "Who is it?" Fëanor called out.  
  
"Guess," came Fingolfin's voice.  
  
Fëanor waved his hand and the door opened. Fingolfin stepped through, and as soon as the door closed they were in each other's arms, holding each other tightly. They kissed, away from the window where they might be seen. Then for a moment they just looked at each other, breathing each other's breath, no need for words.  
  
Fingolfin nodded in acknowledgment and broke the silence. "It is good to see you. Always."  
  
"And good to see you." Fëanor stroked Fingolfin's face. He was tempted - sorely tempted - to drag Fingolfin over to the bed and offer himself for the taking, but it was still daytime yet and their father's household was busy. Too much chance of being discovered. Even at night it was risky, but they had taken that risk before.  
  
"It is almost mealtime," Fingolfin informed Fëanor. "I came to get you."  
  
"Ah." Fëanor had been out of his father's house long enough that he forgot everything was on a much stricter schedule here. "Well, let's go, then."  
  
Fingolfin led the way, and Fëanor followed down the hall and through a corridor to another hall. Maglor and Maedhros and Fingon had already been sent for, sitting with Anairë towards the middle of the table.  
  
Close to the head of the table - not quite at the head, but the chair nearest - was the blond who had sat in the foyer, writing on the quill.  
  
It was one thing for the man to look at him and speak to Fëanor the way he had earlier, it was another thing to sit _there_. It felt like a mockery, outright disrespect. "What are you doing there?" Fëanor snapped at him. "Go find another seat!"  
  
"Fëanor," Fingolfin said gently, but firmly, "that is Finarfin."  
  
Fëanor's jaw dropped. And then his face burned. This beautiful creature was Finarfin? Cake-on-face, riding-on-his-shoulders Finarfin?  
  
Fëanor started to laugh. "Don't fool me, Ñolo."  
  
"How is it you invented a script and yet you are such an idiot?" Finarfin asked, a cool, amused smile on his face. He rose from the table and put out his hand. "I would have thought you'd recognize me sooner than this, brother."  
  
Fëanor realized it should have been more obvious - little Finarfin was blond, this man was blond - but of course it wasn't. Fëanor did not shake his brother's hand. "I would have recognized you sooner if you'd bothered to keep in touch with me instead of ignoring my existence all these years, _brother._ "  
  
There was a wounded look in Finarfin's eyes, and Fëanor saw he had hit a nerve, and Finarfin's mouth opened as if he wanted to say something in return... but then Finwë arrived in the dining hall, with Indis at his side. Everyone seated rose in respect for the High King; the servants bowed.  
  
Finwë strode to take his place at the head of the table, Indis beside him. The seven-course meal was brought in, and much wine. That was one thing Fëanor could not fault his father for - everyone ate well under his roof, even the servants, though Finwë liked to make it a show of how Yavanna had blessed him with abundance for his righteousness. Tomorrow, for Finarfin's birthday, the feast would be even more sumptuous. Fëanor imagined Finwë patting himself on the back for being such a righteous parent would be just as lavish as the food.  
  
Finarfin and Fëanor regarded each other warily across the table. There was small talk, but Fëanor only half-listened, his mind far away, trying to reconcile the mental image of small, boisterous Finarfin with the cool, aloof man seated across from him. He found himself getting angrier and angrier that Finarfin had not contacted him in years...  
  
...getting angrier and angrier that Finarfin was more attractive than he had any right to be, smelled so delicious it should be a crime.  
  
Fingolfin of course smelled delicious as always, and was himself exquisitely beautiful. Fëanor ached for his touch, his kiss, eager for when the night would come and so would they.  
  
Though Fëanor had a sour opinion of the Valar, in no small part due to his father's hypocrisy, he nonetheless knew he was in violation of the Laws and there would be judgment if he and Fingolfin were ever found out. It was, for that reason, bad enough to sin with Fingolfin. Feeling the stirrings of desire for his other brother... that was dangerous. Twice the sin, double the risk.  
  
But also unlikely to ever be realized. Finarfin had forgotten about Fëanor's existence all this time, and likely after he got his gifts he'd go back to forgetting Fëanor existed. Much as Fëanor missed Finarfin and wished things had been different, that he'd gotten a chance to know his youngest brother, he was relieved that soon the temptation would be gone.  
  
And looking upon that glorious hair. It was much nicer than Indis's hair. It was as if Finarfin had been blessed by Vána herself, except that Fëanor thought Finarfin was even more beautiful than fair Vána, blasphemy or not.  
  
After the meal, Maglor performed for everyone on his harp. While Maglor was still a boy, still learning, he was nonetheless possessed of immense skill, and Fëanor thought as he watched and listened that Maglor would become the greatest bard the Quendi had ever known, or would know. Of course he knew he was biased, with Maglor being his son - and Fingolfin's, the magic of his music seeming to be shaped by the fire of their passion. But he was far from the only person in the room moved to tears by Maglor playing the harp.  
  
Finarfin, himself, was getting choked up. Maglor was playing something light and joyous rather than his usual melancholy repertoire, and yet it seemed to make Finarfin cry even more than Maglor's more haunting songs had. And suddenly in his mind's eye, Fëanor saw a memory from Finarfin's childhood, one of the last times the brothers had seen each other, Fëanor carrying Finarfin and running with him, making him sail, then Finarfin climbed on his shoulders and watched the light of the Trees change, and they fed swans together.  
  
And in that memory Fëanor felt love, felt the _worship_ from Finarfin, Fëanor on a pedestal even higher than the Valar in Finarfin's mind.  
  
Finarfin gave Fëanor a filthy look, as if to tell him he was intruding, and then Finarfin looked away and closed his eyes.  
  
Fëanor wondered then what happened, why Finarfin had gone from that intense, fierce love to not a single thought for decades. He assumed it was Finwë's influence - even now, Fëanor noticed his father glaring at him with disapproval, as if the only reason he was allowed to be there was because Finarfin had invited him and at fifty, Finwë couldn't tell his now-adult son "no".  
  
Fëanor retired early to his room and he found himself weeping, letting out the tears he could not shed publicly at Maglor's song. His heart broke for the years of Finarfin's life that he had missed, and the disapproval of their father, growing stronger all the time. He felt like a scared, hurt little boy again under his father's roof, and he hated that powerless feeling. He had half a mind to go back to his own palace, but he made himself wait, not until after Finarfin's birthday tomorrow. If nothing else, he did not want the time and labor he'd spent on Finarfin's gifts to be wasted.  
  
Fëanor had a bath to unwind, and then as he lay there, he heard movement underneath the floor. He smiled to himself.  
  
Finwë's palace not only was heavily reinforced by walls and wards and guards on the outside, but there was an intricate network of underground chambers so in the event of a siege, the household could escape through the tunnels. As boys - then secret friends, not lovers - Fëanor and Fingolfin had figured out the tunnel system and used it to sneak into each other's rooms to spend time together, which was discouraged by Finwë, trying to isolate his other children from "the demon". And when they became lovers, though Fëanor's visits to Finwë's palace were few and far between and indeed, Fëanor had not been in a long time, they had once again used the tunnel network to rendezvous at night.  
  
Fëanor heard footsteps up the steps. His entire body began to tingle with anticipation, his cock hardening already. When the secret door in one of the floorboards opened and it was Fingolfin standing there on the steps, Fëanor got on all fours and showed Fingolfin he was slick for him even now, without being touched, so great was his need for the man he loved.  
  
Fingolfin's breath hitched. "Brother," he husked.  
  
But as much as Fëanor was aching to be taken, filled, _claimed_ by his Alpha brother, he knew it had been long enough since their last tryst that Fingolfin wasn't going to give in right away. Fingolfin rolled Fëanor onto his back and kissed him roughly, kissed him like he was starving for it.  
  
They kissed and kissed, hard cocks rubbing together, hands roaming over each other's bodies, exploring, teasing. Their tongues licked playfully, and Fëanor moaned, arching to his brother, using his nails as his fingers slid over Fingolfin's back and hips once more.  
  
"So hungry for you," Fingolfin rasped, and began to kiss Fëanor's neck, knowing how sensitive he was there. Fingolfin kissed, licked and nibbled Fëanor's neck and throat, their cocks continuing to rub, slick with desire, streamers between the two cocks.  
  
Some time ago, Fëanor had gotten both his nipples pierced, to adorn his body for Fingolfin's enjoyment. And Fingolfin had gotten a ring in the head of his own cock, studded with a blue diamond, a ring Fëanor had crafted himself. The knotwork texture on the ring felt indescribable when it was inside Fëanor's passage, as did the round diamond bead itself. Now Fingolfin was playing with Fëanor's nipple rings, tugging on them with his fingers, and Fëanor cried out at the pull on his exquisitely sensitive nipples. "So beautiful," Fingolfin whispered, before he leaned in to lick an aching peak.  
  
Fëanor's nipples had always had a direct line to his cock, but since getting them pierced, they were even more sensitive, and Fingolfin knew that. Fingolfin's tongue lashed at Fëanor's nipple fast and furious, making Fëanor howl, grabbing Fingolfin's hair. Then Fingolfin suckled, his cock rubbing more insistently against Fëanor's as he drank Fëanor's milk - though Fëanor had not been pregnant in some time and Maglor had long since been weaned, his milk continued to flow with regular suckling from Nerdanel and Fingolfin. "Delicious," Fingolfin growled, and his tongue swirled around and around the nipple, lashing hard and fast again then taking slow, light strokes, before suckling again.  
  
Fingolfin played with the nipple ring, working it back and forth, up and down, tugging here and there, as he turned his attention to the other nipple, lapping, suckling, licking around the nipple, licking fast then slow, sucking harder. Back and forth he went, licking, suckling, tugging the rings with his teeth, until Fëanor was panting, gasping, whimpering, writhing, begging "Please, Ñolo, _please_ , fucking fuck me, Ñolo, _fuck me_..." Fëanor was glad he'd remembered to put an enchantment on his room to prevent others from hearing.  
  
Fingolfin just chuckled, not giving in yet. Fingolfin sucked a nipple even harder, rubbing the other nipple with his thumb, pinching it, tugging the ring before he sucked that nipple too, playing with the other. Back and forth, back and forth, drinking Fëanor's milk, murmuring his pleasure as he sipped. Fëanor could feel the slick gushing out of him, making a wet spot in the sheets. He felt like he was going out of his mind with need.  
  
Then Fingolfin proceeded to kiss, lick and nibble the rest of Fëanor's body - his stomach, his hips and thighs, kissing behind the knee, and at last, licking and sucking Fëanor's cock. He sucked slowly, licked and licked slowly, deliberately, watching Fëanor react, listening to his cries, each more broken than the last. When Fingolfin rose up, Fëanor saw that Fingolfin's cock was just as slick as his own, and Fëanor groaned at the sight of more clear flow pooling down Fingolfin's shaft, so ready for him.  
  
And still, not just yet. Their cocks were rubbing together again, Fingolfin kissing him, Fëanor kissing back with all the fire of his being, hands not able to stop touching Fingolfin's beautiful, perfect body, touching and touching, feeling, needing to feel all of him, every part. With a wicked grin, Fingolfin maneuvered his cock so the blue diamond bead in the ring in the head of his cock pushed into the slit of Fëanor's cock. Fëanor gasped and shuddered, and cried out as Fingolfin thrust, fucking the slit of his cock with the blue diamond, each thrust threatening to send Fëanor over the edge and make him spill.  
  
"Don't come yet. Not until I say so," Fingolfin commanded, the finger of his free hand tracing around Fëanor's nipples, walking a teasing trail down to his belly and back up. "I want you to burn for me, Fëanáro."  
  
"Damn you, Ñolo..." Fëanor so desperately needed to come, but this felt so good he never wanted Fingolfin to stop.  
  
And the ache for Fingolfin inside him got stronger and stronger, until Fëanor was biting Fingolfin's shoulder, growling, whimpering, feeling like an animal in his need. Fingolfin finally relented, laughing softly, and Fëanor watched as he pulled his cock away from Fëanor's cock and guided the tip of his cock to Fëanor's spread, waiting passage.  
  
That first moment of Fingolfin inside him was always so sweet. If this was sin, Fëanor didn't want to be right. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, the two of them becoming one, fitting together so perfectly, like they were made for each other.  
  
"I love you, brother," Fingolfin whispered, and kissed Fëanor deeply.  
  
"I love you," Fëanor said, and kissed him back.  
  
Fingolfin began to thrust, slowly, the two of them savoring the way they fit together. But that ring in Fingolfin's cock felt too good - Fingolfin's cock, itself, felt delicious stroking inside him - and soon Fëanor was urging him on harder, faster, rolling his hips back at his brother. Fingolfin matched Fëanor's rhythm, kissing him, then kissing his neck again, the hollow between his neck and shoulder. And then Fingolfin's teeth were there as he went faster, harder, rubbing inside Fëanor, pleasuring that sweet spot inside him over and over again.  
  
As the pleasure inside Fëanor built higher and deeper, the scent of Fingolfin got stronger, more intoxicating. Fingolfin's Alpha scent was like sea air, musk and roses, and now the rose-musk notes were more intense, Fëanor craving that scent like a drug. He rubbed his nose against Fingolfin's flesh, both to caress Fingolfin's body and to breathe him in. _My breath of life._  
  
At last Fingolfin was slamming into him, Fëanor's legs in the air, howling, nails raking Fingolfin's back as Fingolfin bit his neck and shoulder, grunting, growling. Fingolfin was rubbing inside him just right and Fëanor heard himself crying out "don't stop don't stop don'tstopdon'tstop, more, more, _more!_ Give me more!" but he so badly needed to come, trembling, shuddering, feeling like he would shatter or burn up if he didn't get his release soon.  
  
Fingolfin grabbed Fëanor's hair and looked into his eyes, fierce, commanding. "Come for me," Fingolfin said.  
  
Fëanor's entire body throbbed as his cock shot off arc after arc of cream over Fingolfin's chest and stomach. He melted into bliss, feeling himself smile, hearing himself sigh with pleasure. "Yes, Ñolo. Oh, yes..."  
  
"Fëanáro. Beloved." And Fingolfin was right there too, spending deep inside him, hot as fire. Fëanor loved that feeling.  
  
They held each other and rocked together, kissing, nuzzling, stroking each other's faces, looking into each other's eyes. Fingolfin's eyes were such a beautiful blue, iridescent; Fëanor could get lost in those eyes. Looking into Fingolfin's eyes was like being bathed in light.  
  
That made Fëanor think of Finarfin's hair. What it would be like to touch it, play with it. What it would be like to grab it in the heat of passion...  
  
 _I cannot think of my other brother that way._  
  
Finarfin was not a child anymore; indeed he was so much of a man now that Fëanor had not recognized him, and would not be noticing him this way were he not a man. And that scent...  
  
 _Damn you, Arafinwë._  
  
Fëanor tried to push the thought of Finarfin out of his mind, but his cock had woken up again. Fingolfin smiled at it, and took both their cocks into his fist, stroking slowly as they kissed.  
  
"More," Fëanor whispered.  
  
"As much as you want," Fingolfin whispered back, kissing him harder.  
  
"All night," Fëanor said, wanting to be taken over and over again, _needing_ Fingolfin now more than ever. Being under Finwë's roof made him feel vulnerable; being in Fingolfin's arms made him safe.  
  
  
_  
  
  
True to Fëanor's request, they had spent the whole night making love, in different positions - Fëanor on his back again, looking up into those blue eyes with worship. Then Fëanor riding Fingolfin like a wild horse, riding for all he was worth, Fingolfin pounding into him, making him work for it. Fëanor on all fours like a dog, Fingolfin grabbing his hair, slamming into him. Then one last slow, gentle fuck, Fingolfin laying behind Fëanor and holding him, nuzzling and kissing his neck, letting Fëanor feel the tight shield wall of his arms. "I've got your back, brother," Fingolfin whispered as he thrust slowly, sweetly. "You may be older but I'll always watch out for you."  
  
They got only a short rest before Fingolfin had to clear out of Fëanor's room to not arouse suspicion in the daytime staff. Fëanor slept until a servant let him know the feast for Finarfin's birthday would begin soon, and then he bathed, and dressed in finery. Fëanor made it a point of wearing costly purple, as if to announce to the entire House of Finwë and their kin by marriage that he was still the eldest son, Omega or not.  
  
And when he came into the banquet hall he saw Fingolfin was wearing a deep, rich blue with shades of lighter blue that brought out the blue of his eyes; Fingolfin was lovely as always, and Fëanor had to stop himself from staring for long, not wanting to rouse suspicions.  
  
Today Finarfin was wearing green and gold with touches of white, and though Fëanor was wearing purple, Fëanor couldn't help but look at his youngest brother and think _He looks like a king._  
  
After a long speech where Finwë, predictably, congratulated himself for being such a "good" parent all these years, saying much more about himself and his own piety than praise for his youngest son - and Fëanor fought the urge to scream - then Oromë and Tulkas came in themselves for a brief appearance, per the prayers of Finwë, who wanted his most pious son to receive a blessing from the Valar directly. Oromë had a golden wolfhound with him, and Finarfin's eyes widened and he made an undignified little squeak at the sight of it - a reminder of the boy Fëanor knew. "Her name is Manyallë, for she is a blessing to you," Oromë said.  
  
"Thank you, my lord," Finarfin said with a graceful bow. He smiled as Manyallë put her paws on his shoulders and began to lick his face, and it seemed to Fëanor that Finarfin's smile lit up the entire room.  
  
That smile took Fëanor's breath away.  
  
But apart from the gift of the dog, Finarfin seemed a bit uncomfortable with the presence of the two Valar there, looking nervous, even a bit annoyed... and Fëanor began to wonder if in fact Finarfin was as pious as Finwë claimed, or if Finarfin was just going along with a display of piety to appease his father. Fëanor preferred to show his disdain openly - he did not drink the wine that was poured out to toast the Valar in their presence - but then, he had been out of Finwë's house for some time now, and it was not considered sin to abstain from strong drink given to the Valar; indeed, it was part of the Law that people could express the occasional complaint or challenge without retribution, for the Valar did not want to be perceived as petty tyrants. And yet, Fëanor thought that was exactly what they were, and had shaped Finwë to be that way himself.  
  
The feast was fourteen courses, double from the seven of yesterday... and there was a cake. Fëanor pretended to not be offended that the cake for Finarfin's coming-of-age was even more grand than the cake for his own wedding to Nerdanel. He knew Finarfin was Indis's favorite son, and Finarfin would only come of age once, and he did love cake so. But nonetheless, it was one more thing Fëanor found obnoxious, moreso when Finarfin went right to the cake before eating his actual meal. _I never got away with that when I was a boy,_ Fëanor thought bitterly. _Spoilt._  
  
Then he reminded himself, _Finarfin can do it now because he's fifty. He's not a boy anymore._  
  
He definitely didn't look like a boy. The flowing green robe left his arms bare, and Fëanor found himself staring at those arms again, the muscle definition, wondering what it would feel like to be in those arms, feel that power...  
  
It was time for Finarfin to receive his gifts. From Finwë he received a sword and shield - Fëanor tried not to scoff, thinking _I could make him something better._ Indis gave him a new cloak, white with silver and gold trim. Fingolfin gave Finarfin books and Finarfin was especially eager to receive these; somehow this made Fëanor even more jealous, that Fingolfin had been included in Finarfin's life and knew he liked to read, to study and learn.  
  
Fëanor went last to present his gift... or one of the two gifts he'd brought. Only this one would he be giving in the sight of others. It was a necklace, the focal pendant a flower made of golden jewels, leaves made of emerald, and there were smaller flowers made of gold leading up to a golden chain. Between the flowers were tiny emeralds. "I remember your favorite color was green," Fëanor explained.  
  
"This is very fine work," Finarfin said, looking almost in awe as he accepted it. "Would you do the honors of putting it on me, brother?"  
  
Fëanor did, and regretted that decision, the proximity of Finarfin, feeling like he had been shocked by lightning with each touch. His mouth went dry and his cock strained against his breeches, making him glad for the voluminous purple robes he was wearing. Finarfin already looked regal in his outfit, but the necklace made him look even more majestic, and once again Finarfin's face lit up with delight and Fëanor couldn't stand the beauty of it.  
  
"Thank you, brother. Though we have not seen each other in years it seems you do indeed remember who I am," Finarfin said softly.  
  
Those words were like a punch to the gut, a stab to the heart. Finwë was glaring at them - Fëanor could practically hear Finwë screaming _get away from MY SON_ internally - and so Fëanor resisted the urge to embrace him, but he leaned in and said, "I have another gift for you, for your eyes only. After the feast is done?"  
  
"Yes," Finarfin said.  
  
Fëanor arranged to meet Finarfin out in the garden. He saw the garden had changed a lot since the last time he was there, and he asked one of the old servants, Laiquo, about it.  
  
"Oh, that's Lord Arafinwë's doing," Laiquo informed him. "He loves to come out here and tend the garden. And over there is his bird sanctuary." He gestured to a clearing that led out to a grove of trees. As if on cue, a cacophony of bird chirps started.  
  
Fëanor could not imagine the regal-looking scholarly prince out here getting his hands dirty, but then he supposed that, too, was a touch of the Finarfin he'd once known, who was always playing in the dirt to the annoyance of Indis and Finwë. Fëanor took a walk through the grove and saw different varieties of songbirds in the trees, and up ahead there was a pond where swans were sailing. Fëanor sighed.  
  
Finarfin was suddenly beside him, his footfall so light it made Fëanor jump. Finarfin chuckled at the reaction. Then he pointed at the swans. "Nenyo and Mastamë," Finarfin said.  
  
"You named one of your swans Cake. Well, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Fëanor said, laughing.  
  
"I was still a boy," Finarfin said. "They have lived awhile. I will probably take them with me when I eventually go." Finarfin sighed. "Father has been pushing me to marry."  
  
Fëanor made a noise. For a brief instant he felt sympathy for his youngest brother. Then he pushed that feeling away, angry once again that he had not been there to see Finarfin name his swans... he had not been there, period.  
  
Finarfin seemed to sense his hurt and got in front of Fëanor rather than beside him, letting Fëanor see the sadness in his eyes. "He would not let me contact you."  
  
That was somehow even worse than thinking Finarfin had just gone along with whatever filth Finwë was spewing, and deliberately ignoring him. Fëanor's fists clenched. Before he could march off to the palace and give their father a piece of his mind, Finarfin tugged on the hem of Fëanor's tunic, stopping him. "I'm sorry. I wanted to and..." Finarfin sighed. "Father is difficult."  
  
" _What did he do to you?_ " Fëanor could see it in his mind's eye, Finwë backhanding Finarfin as he had occasionally backhanded Fëanor. Making Finarfin kneel for hours and pray for forgiveness to the Valar for the smallest infractions. And yet, Finarfin had defied him in the ways he was able. He spent as much time as he could outside of the palace in the garden, and with his birds. Fingolfin came to visit when he could, and brought Finarfin books to remind him there was a world outside the palace, waiting for him. Finarfin wrote stories and poetry, in secret.  
  
"He thought he had been too lax with you and Ñolofinwë, so he made up for it with me." Finarfin swallowed hard. "I would have written to you before now, if he had not been watching so closely."  
  
With that, Fëanor threw his arms around Finarfin. He didn't just want to scream at Finwë now, pummel him with his fists, he wanted to burn the entire damn palace down. But he did not, because Finarfin was crying on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, brother. I'm sorry..."  
  
"Shhhhh." Fëanor stroked that glorious hair, breathed in the scent of him, and tried not to feel the desire coursing through him at the way Finarfin's body felt against his, the way those strong, powerful arms were tight around him. "It's all right, brother. You're a man now. We'll make up for lost time."  
  
Finarfin pulled apart and kissed Fëanor's brow. For a moment Fëanor wondered if Finarfin would kiss his mouth too, but he just stood there and looked at Fëanor expectantly.  
  
"Your other gift," Fëanor said. "Right."  
  
"I don't want to seem greedy. I still have to be careful, man or not, our father has eyes everywhere. If I stay out here too long with you..."  
  
"I understand."  
  
Fëanor reached into his pocket. Though it had been surprising to see Finarfin all grown up now, nonetheless Fëanor had known Finarfin was becoming a man when he received the invite, and he had forged an arm-ring to fit a man's arm. The gold torc had two lion heads - Fëanor remembered Finarfin's stuffed lion, and calling Finarfin his little lion when he was a boy.  
  
Finarfin gasped. He teared up again, this time from joy, and then he pulled Fëanor into another fierce, tight hug. "Thank you, brother. Thank you, thank you, thank you, your work is so magnificent..."  
  
"You are magnificent," Fëanor said before he could stop himself. It was true; not just in looks, but with what little Fëanor knew about him. Fëanor put the ring on Finarfin's arm. Then he smiled and said, "I would like to make more jewelry for you."  
  
It was an excuse to be around Finarfin some more, but also, Finarfin looked like a king, and he should be decked out like one. It was something not even Finwë could object to - he encouraged Fëanor and Fingolfin to dress up to the finest for events, and Finarfin's attire was much more simple by comparison. Fëanor thought that was probably part of the piety angle, but he knew Finwë would be pleased to see Finarfin flaunting the status of their house, even as Finwë was not pleased with Fëanor himself.  
  
"I would like that very much," Finarfin said. "You are truly the most gifted artisan in all Valinor. I am picky about what I wear..." Finarfin gestured to his own outfit and the distinct lack of jewelry apart from what Fëanor had given him, and Fëanor saw now it was less piety and more vanity that had kept Finarfin less accessorized. "But what you make... there is nothing finer."  
  
"Your words honor me, brother."  
  
Finarfin clasped his hands for a moment, and his touch was like fire. "I am sparring with Fingolfin shortly. Would you like to watch?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Fëanor had misgivings after he gave his answer, worried Finwë would also be watching, and he was already tired of that glare of disapproval. But to his relief it was just the three of them, and Manyallë the dog, in one of the smaller courtyards to the side of the palace, with a high wall around it.  
  
Now Fëanor's worry was for the weaponry he'd given Fingolfin, versus the sword and shield Finwë had given Finarfin. While the sword and shield didn't look shoddy, Fëanor knew they were no match for what he'd made for Fingolfin. _Go easy on him,_ Fëanor spoke into Fingolfin's mind.  
  
 _How will he learn?_ Fingolfin shot back.  
  
Fingolfin had a point, but Fëanor still had concerns. Though, Finarfin seemed to know right away that the sword and shield were enchanted, and Finarfin, being of their blood, was able to temporarily bind that enchantment with a wave of his hand. Fingolfin would have to fight on his own merits, without magic. Of course, Fingolfin was a skilled warrior, and his sword and shield were nigh indestructible - Fëanor remembered how Fingolfin's shield had broken a sword of his own make, as intended.  
  
It took five thrusts for Finarfin's sword to finally connect with Fingolfin's shield, and then, of course, it broke. Fingolfin then bashed Finarfin's shield with his, breaking that as well.  
  
"Part of learning how to fight is learning when to surrender," Fingolfin said, "and hoping your enemy will be merciful."  
  
Before Fingolfin's sword could threaten Finarfin again, Finarfin leapt on him, like a giant predatory cat. Finarfin wrestled him to the ground, and quickly disarmed Fingolfin, grabbing away both his sword and his shield and tossing them off to the side. They rolled around in the grass together and Fëanor's cock woke up as he remembered rubbing cock to cock with Fingolfin last night, and his mind entertained the wicked fantasy of Fingolfin and Finarfin tearing each other's clothes off, rubbing cock to cock to see who would spill first. The thought of the two most beautiful men in Valinor rubbing their cocks together and coming almost set Fëanor off right then, and he heard himself whimper, then bit his hand, trying to force himself to keep calm, keep under control, not think such thoughts.  
  
Finarfin was fighting dirty, punching, kicking, with a savagery the gallant Fingolfin had not been expecting. Somehow, Finarfin had a knife hidden in his sleeve and at last he pulled it on Fingolfin's throat. "What's that about surrender now?" Finarfin asked.  
  
Fëanor's cock felt ready to explode. He stood up and clapped, if only because his robe hid the erection straining painfully.  
  
Fingolfin shot him a look as he got up and brushed himself off. "You did not fight with honor," Fingolfin scolded Finarfin.  
  
Finarfin grinned. "No. I fight to win."  
  
Both Finarfin and Fingolfin smelled a bit stronger than usual, and with the way they were looking at each other, Fëanor wondered if they were aroused by each other. He wanted to see them fuck, but he wanted them to fuck him too. And he knew it was bad to want that. He was trying to not want it. But oh...  
  
Finarfin and Fingolfin moved closer and whispered to each other, as if they were conspiring. Fëanor raised an eyebrow and wondered what they were talking about.  
  
Before he could ask, though, Finwë was standing in the side doorway leading out to that courtyard now, standing on the top step, his arms folded. "Arafinwë, I think you have been around Fëanor enough for one day."  
  
Fëanor glared at his father, and Finwë glared back. Fëanor gave Finarfin a pleading look and spoke into his mind. _You are fifty now. You are a man. Resist him! Stand up to him!_  
  
But Finarfin did not. And even though Fëanor knew that Finarfin's childhood had been miserable under his iron fist, and he could not entirely blame Finarfin for compliance, he still bristled at it anyway, moreso as Finarfin said, "Yes, you are right. He is a bit much."  
  
Finarfin gave Fëanor a very quick sympathetic glance as if to say _I don't mean it._ But the words still stung, after years of hearing Nerdanel call him "a lot" and there was a growing distance between them. Before he could stop himself, Fëanor shot back, "You may be a man now, but you have no fire in you. You are just a wilting flower."  
  
Finarfin's nostrils flared, and then he flounced off in a huff, silver-gold hair billowing behind him. Fëanor tried to not watch the hair.  
  
Fingolfin's hand was on Fëanor's shoulder. "Great job," Fingolfin said dryly.  
  
And yet, years later, it would be this moment that Fëanor would recall when the Valar wanted to have "a meeting", as rumors of indiscretion were circulating the court; Fëanor would draw upon it to spare him and his brothers, pretending that he hated them, especially Fingolfin.  
  
Here and now, Fëanor felt like he had messed up everything, but then, the situation had been all messed up before he even arrived.  
  
With a sigh, Fëanor retreated to his chamber.  
  
  
_  
  
  
Not even a second bath of the day, perfumed with lavender and rose, could ease Fëanor's tension. It was taking Fëanor every last scrap of his restraint not to throttle their father and burn the palace down. He was furious.  
  
But mostly, he was just tired, and very, very done with his father, after decades of this nonsense. It was one thing for Finwë to mistreat him, it was another thing to know what he'd done to Finarfin, the ways Finwë had tried to break Finarfin's spirit.  
  
Fëanor was emotionally exhausted, and he went to bed early. He figured Fingolfin would be in later for a repeat of last night, so he better catch up on what rest he could now. He sank into the linens, naked, and dozed off.  
  
Some time later, Fëanor felt kisses on his neck, a hard cock rubbing in the crack of his ass. Fëanor moaned and stretched, thrusting out his ass, flexing his fingers and toes like a contented cat. "Mmmmm, Ñolo..." Fëanor shivered at the kisses over his back shoulder, kisses and licking down his spine.  
  
A soft chuckle. "This isn't Ñolofinwë."  
  
Fëanor recognized that voice. And that scent, now that he was waking up - rain, wildflowers and musk, with the musk getting stronger. Fëanor gasped and looked over his shoulder, and before he could say anything, Finarfin claimed his mouth with a kiss.  
  
Fëanor's cock jolted and his passage gushed slick, another shudder going through him, nipples aching, _wanting_. Their tongues teased, tasted, the forbidden kiss delicious. Finarfin's fingers followed the trail his mouth had taken down Fëanor's spine, making him shiver again, and then Finarfin was kissing his neck more insistently, licking, biting, growling.  
  
"Ara..." Fëanor let out a little whimper. He wasn't going to say no. Every fiber of his being was screaming _yes._ But he worried about the risk. "Our father..."  
  
"I put a spell on him to make sure he sleeps very soundly," Finarfin said. He kissed Fëanor again. "You, my dear, won't be getting any sleep tonight."  
  
Fëanor gave him a lazy grin. "Promises, promises."  
  
Finarfin slapped Fëanor's ass, hard, immediately letting him know who was in charge. Fëanor loved it, gushing another puddle of slick. Then Finarfin grabbed Fëanor's hair - Fëanor loved that, too, moaning - and kissed him more roughly, just before he rasped, "Tonight I will show you fire, Fëanáro, and we will scorch the earth."


	2. Chapter 2

Though the words sent a thrill through Fëanor, he also knew they were a reaction to what he'd said earlier after the sparring match, when Finwë had bade Finarfin to come inside, away from his brother. _"You may be a man now, but you have no fire in you. You are just a wilting flower."_ Fëanor knew it was easy enough for himself to stand up to their father, having lived away from his roof all these years. It was more difficult for Finarfin, who had been raised even more strictly... more severely.  
  
"I am sorry for what I said earlier, brother," Fëanor said sincerely. "I -"  
  
"Not as sorry as that arse of yours is going to be." With that, Finarfin slapped Fëanor's ass again, harder. And again. And again.  
  
Fëanor moaned and rubbed his aching cock against the silk sheets, more slick gushing out of him. His ass stung sweetly, and he was desperate to be filled, to feel that gorgeous man inside him, pounding him. Finarfin leaned in, grabbed Fëanor's chin and turned Fëanor's face towards his, and kissed him again with such passion that it made Fëanor shiver and whimper into the kiss, cock throbbing.  
  
Finarfin growled as he nipped Fëanor's lip, heat flaring in his eyes. Now Fëanor kissed him back, hungry for it, and Finarfin moaned into the kiss, one arm around Fëanor, hand sliding over Fëanor's chest, resting on his heart for a moment before his thumb brushed a nipple. Finarfin teased the nipple, rubbing it with his thumb, before tugging on the ring.  
  
"I see Ñolo wasn't lying," Finarfin said, pulling on the ring again. Fëanor cried out. Then Finarfin shoved Fëanor onto his back, roughly, and his eyes raked Fëanor up and down, lingering on the pierced nipples. "Mmmm, very, very nice."  
  
Fëanor's mouth opened, scarcely believing it. "Ñolo... told you... my nipples are pierced?"  
  
"Ñolo told me a lot of things, Fëanáro." Finarfin gave him a small, amused, wicked smile. "Quite a lot of things."  
  
"You..." Fëanor blinked. "You talked about... _that?_ "  
  
"Father wouldn't teach me about sex, and Mother only gave me very limited, basic information. So yes, Fingolfin spent some time educating me, when I was old enough. And part of his education involved telling me about you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Am I to believe this is the same man who invented a script, invented lamps?" Finarfin had that amused-and-annoyed look on his face now. "I have loved you as long as I can remember, Fëanor. When I started that change of life, growing from a boy into a man, I am very certain it is why Father forbade me to contact you, why he tried to poison my mind against you. Little did he know that it would just push me towards you all the more. Whenever Fingolfin came to see us, I begged him to tell me stories about you. And when I was old enough, those stories were... less innocent. And he gave me his blessing to share you with him." Finarfin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "He was going to make me wait until after my birthday festival was over, so he could have you to himself these few days, but I didn't want to wait anymore. That sparring match you witnessed was a custom from the old world, where two Alphas would fight over an Omega. I won, so I get to have you tonight."  
  
Fëanor was deeply touched. He'd had no idea Finarfin had felt that way, the innocent hero-worship of his childhood blossoming once he approached manhood into something deeper... more dangerous. And he couldn't deny his desire for the beautiful man in front of him... the scholar, the warrior. Fëanor thought of the garden and the birds, a sanctuary to Finarfin as much as Fëanor's forge was to himself. He wanted to get to know Finarfin better... and that meant intimately as well.  
  
But Fëanor couldn't resist playing with Finarfin the way he played with Fingolfin, at least a little. "Is that so?" Fëanor propped himself up on one elbow, giving Finarfin an incredulous look.  
  
"Fëanor, I can smell how aroused you are, I can see the way you're hard for me, leaking slick for me. By all means, if you say no, I'll leave and we'll never speak of this again. But you don't want me to leave, do you?"  
  
"I never want you to leave again." Fëanor held out his arms.  
  
Finarfin fell into Fëanor's arms, kissing him as if their lives depended on it, kissing and kissing and kissing. Their hard cocks rubbed together and Fëanor moaned at the feel of Finarfin's cock against his, the feel of Finarfin's body against his. His hands ran over his brother's body and then his hands were in that flood of hair, that glorious mane as if Finarfin's hair had been made from the light of the Trees itself.  
  
"I love you, Fëanor," Finarfin whispered. "I am so sorry for not being there -"  
  
"I wish I'd known." Fëanor swallowed hard. "And I wish Fingolfin had told me that was why -"  
  
"I asked him not to tell." Finarfin closed his eyes and shuddered. "I didn't want you to think I was a coward for not standing up to Father."  
  
That made Fëanor's careless words from earlier stab him even harder with guilt. Fëanor's arms tightened around Finarfin and he pulled Finarfin into his chest, rocking him, petting him. But instead of breaking down crying - which Fëanor would have held him through, ready to cry himself, aching for the way his youngest brother had been hurt - Finarfin picked his head up and once again kissed Fëanor so hard it took his breath away. Fëanor cried out as Finarfin began kissing and licking his neck. "Ñolo told me what you like," Finarfin husked, licking, nibbling. "I'm going to make you scream."  
  
"Hi Going To Make You Scream..."  
  
Finarfin gave him a look, then he lifted up one of Fëanor's legs so he could reach an ass cheek and swatted. Fëanor moaned and Finarfin resumed kissing and licking his neck, his throat. "So... you do want this, yes?" Finarfin asked, kissing down over a shoulder, his tongue trailing down to a nipple, pausing just before his tongue could lick the hard nub.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"I think you have a smart mouth."  
  
"Mmm, maybe that mouth needs something in it." Fëanor batted his eyes.  
  
Finarfin started to lick Fëanor's nipple, and before he could do more with it, he drew himself up, straddled Fëanor's chest, and thrust his hard cock into Fëanor's face. Fëanor swallowed it to the hilt, looking up at Finarfin, letting him see the lust in his eyes as he began to suck hard and fast. Finarfin groaned, and grabbed Fëanor's hair, pulling it, gently thrusting into Fëanor's mouth.  
  
"That's it, big brother," Finarfin rasped. " _Gods_ , that feels even better than Ñolo said it would..." He shivered, closed his eyes and moaned.  
  
"Mmmmmmm," Fëanor said with his mouth full, slowing down the sucking, savoring. Fëanor's own cock was painfully hard now, and he could feel the slick pouring out of him. Fëanor reached down to stroke his own cock as he sucked his brother, rubbing his tongue as he sucked, his cock pulsing with each moan and gasp Finarfin made.  
  
"Ai, Fëanáro. That's so good..." Finarfin let out a little cry, breathing harder, thrusting faster into Fëanor's mouth.  
  
Fëanor started sucking him hard again, wanting to devour him, eat him alive. It wasn't long before Fëanor felt Finarfin tensing, and he spoke into Finarfin's mind with ósanwe. _Come in my mouth, brother. I want to taste you._  
  
" _Fëanáro!_ " Finarfin's head threw back and he gave a shout, body heaving as he flooded Fëanor's mouth with hot seed.  
  
Fëanor loved the taste of it, salty-sweet, fresh. Finarfin filled his mouth so full that it seeped from the corners of his mouth down his throat. Fëanor felt ready to choke from the volume, swallowing down as much as he could. Finarfin pulled out of Fëanor's mouth just for his cock to spurt again all over Fëanor's face and hair, and another spurt over Fëanor's throat and chest. Fëanor groaned, licking his lips, almost coming himself from how utterly _debauched_ it was to be covered in his brother's seed like this.  
  
 _Marked._ Claimed.  
  
Finarfin regarded Fëanor with that cool, amused smile again. His finger lovingly, playfully traced the seed dripping down Fëanor's throat. "Now it seems I have given you a necklace." He stroked Fëanor's cheek. "Don't say I never did anything for you, Fëanáro."  
  
Fëanor was delighted by his brother's sass - indeed, they were quite a bit alike. He kissed Finarfin's hand and nuzzled it. "You did indeed do something for me." Fëanor leaned back against the pillows, smirking. "Since you spilled, it means you will last longer when you fuck me."  
  
"Oh, is that so?"  
  
Fëanor nodded.  
  
Finarfin leaned in and began to lick his seed from Fëanor's face, then his throat and chest, making Fëanor shiver and moan with each lash of his tongue. Now Finarfin was lapping Fëanor's nipples, one then the other, and when he suckled one, drinking Fëanor's milk, Fëanor clutched at him and cried out, arching his back, spreading, needing it like he needed air. Finarfin chuckled and licked around and around the nipple, tongue taking a few more strokes before he looked up and said, "I'm not going to fuck you, Fëanor."  
  
Fëanor's face fell and he heard himself make a whine of protest, despite himself.  
  
Finarfin chuckled, took Fëanor's chin in his hand and kissed him. Then he rasped, "I'm going to fuck _the Hells_ out of you."  
  
Fëanor grinned, and Finarfin grinned back.  
  
"But first," Finarfin said, lowering his head back down to Fëanor's nipple, "I'm going to tease you."  
  
"Hi Going To Tease You -"  
  
Finarfin lifted up Fëanor's other leg and slapped his other ass cheek. Fëanor's grin got bigger.  
  
"You are a brat," Finarfin said.  
  
Fëanor needed to goad his lion. "I'm your brat... you cake-eating... poncy... twat."  
  
Finarfin _bit_ Fëanor's nipple, and Fëanor cried out, grabbing Finarfin's hair. Then Finarfin soothed the throbbing bud with his tongue, the teasing pleasure even more exquisite after the painful bite. Fëanor whimpered, arching to him, bucking against him, and Finarfin chuckled before he took a few more licks, then he suckled the nipple hard, drinking Fëanor's milk. He made a groan of pleasure as he suckled.  
  
"And that is even better than cake," Finarfin said, chasing the beads of milk dripping down Fëanor's chest with his tongue.  
  
"Only the best for my little lion." Fëanor tenderly stroked Finarfin's face, and the smile Finarfin gave him melted his heart.  
  
But then the tenderness was gone as Finarfin bit Fëanor's other nipple, making Fëanor scream, and again when Finarfin's tongue lashed it hard and fast before suckling, drinking from that nipple as well. He played with one nipple, rubbing it and pinching it with his thumb and fingers, tugging the nipple ring, as he licked and sucked the other, sipping Fëanor's milk, making Fëanor writhe and pant underneath him, until Fëanor was almost sobbing, begging, "Ara, please... please, fuck me..."  
  
"Mmmmmm." Finarfin suckled Fëanor's nipple harder, a wicked look in his eyes. "Can't I enjoy my birthday feast?"  
  
"Damn you, Ara..."  
  
"Mmmmmmmm." For that, Finarfin licked around Fëanor's nipple slowly, gave some fluttery, light brushes of his tongue on the throbbing nub before suckling again.  
  
Finarfin spent a long time just on Fëanor's nipples. Fëanor supposed he shouldn't be surprised, since Finarfin was Fingolfin's brother too and Fingolfin loved to tease Fëanor's nipples, but Fëanor was nonetheless surprised by how much _passion_ Finarfin had, the cool, aloof man in the palace now all blinding fire here in the sheets, sucking Fëanor's nipples like he was starving for it... and Finarfin had only just begun. A shiver went down Fëanor's spine, wondering what he was in for tonight.  
  
Fëanor's nipples had never been so swollen, not even from Fingolfin's treatment. Milk dripped down his chest, and Finarfin let the beads of milk roll all the way down to his stomach before he licked them, his tongue like fire, a fire that sent chills of pleasure through Fëanor's body. Fëanor's cock felt ready to explode now, and his hole was still pouring slick, filling the room with its sweet scent. He needed desperately to be filled, to be fucked.  
  
But Finarfin wasn't done. He covered Fëanor's chest and stomach with kisses, licked and nibbled, hands stroking over Fëanor's flesh. He kissed and nibbled down a hip and thigh, behind a knee, and down a calf, and up the other calf, knee, thigh, and hip, and then he rubbed his nose in Fëanor's dark bush, breathing his scent deeply. "You smell incredible," Finarfin said.  
  
"Gods, Ara, please..."  
  
Finarfin began to lick Fëanor's cock, slowly, watching his eyes. Fëanor heard himself make wild animal noises, writhing, trembling, grabbing at that magnificent silver-gold mane again as Finarfin licked and licked and licked, tormentingly slowly, and then he sucked just the head of Fëanor's cock, kissing it, swirling his tongue, as his fingers played around the rim of Fëanor's opening. At last Finarfin slid down and then his tongue was inside Fëanor, groaning into him as his tongue lashed away, fucking him. Fëanor screamed and howled and whimpered, pulling on Finarfin's tongue, bucking his hips, fucking himself on that tongue rubbing the sweet spot inside him, driving him mad with sensation and desire and raw, primal need. He saw Finarfin's left shoulder moving and knew Finarfin was stroking himself as he ate at Fëanor, and that threatened to send Fëanor over the edge, knowing Finarfin was just as aroused by this as he was.  
  
Just before Fëanor could come from Finarfin's tongue inside him, Finarfin pulled out and resumed taking long, deliberate licks at Fëanor's glistening cock. He took Fëanor's cock into his mouth inch by inch and sucked slowly, eyes locked with his, and his fingers slipped into Fëanor's passage, rubbing that spot inside him again. Fëanor gave a wordless cry, he was so close, so close, but Finarfin kept him on that edge, building the pleasure-tension higher and higher.  
  
Finarfin let Fëanor's cock slip from his mouth. His tongue lashed the slit and then swirled around and around the head, and then he was licking up and down the shaft again, ever slowly. After a few last slow licks at the slit, making a show of collecting Fëanor's flow on his tongue, he rose up and kissed Fëanor, letting him taste himself, as his hard cock rubbed against Fëanor's cock.  
  
Then Finarfin spread Fëanor's legs. _Finally,_ Fëanor thought to himself, though in truth he had loved all that teasing, Finarfin worshiping his body that way. Fëanor's breath hitched as he felt the tip of Finarfin's cock at his entrance...  
  
...and then Finarfin began to tease again, just the tip of his cock, in and out. An amused smirk on his face as the tip of his cock teased the opening, before slipping back out.  
  
Fëanor couldn't take it anymore. He grabbed Finarfin's hair as hard as he could and _bit_ his brother's neck. "FUCK ME _NOW,_ " he roared.  
  
Finarfin laughed just before he kissed Fëanor hard, and pushed into him. Then he bit Fëanor's neck and began to slam into him, showing no mercy, fucking him hard and fast. Fëanor loved it, pushing Finarfin's hair aside to claw his back. "Yes, yes, _yes,_ " Fëanor panted. "Fuck me, Ara, fuck me..."  
  
Finarfin growled and bit Fëanor's neck again. And again. Bit the sweet spot where the neck and shoulder met. Bit Fëanor's chest as he worked his way to the other side of Fëanor's neck, to bite there, too. "Like that?" Finarfin rasped.  
  
"Yes, Ara. Oh gods, yes. YES. Fuck me..."  
  
Finarfin seized his mouth and kissed him roughly again... but there was sweetness there too, a lifetime of love, of adoration, pent up and exploding into brilliant fire. Fëanor had tears in his eyes, not from pain, but from the sheer joy of reuniting with his brother like this, become such a beautiful man... a man he could love, just like he loved Fingolfin. His heart was so full of love it hurt, and every fierce, savage stroke Finarfin took within him pushed away those years of seeming rejection, pulled him into light, into hope.  
  
"Mine," Finarfin growled, before kissing him again. And again. "Mine."  
  
"Yours, brother, yours..."  
  
Fëanor's legs were on Finarfin's shoulders, Finarfin pounding into him harder and harder, rubbing that sweet spot inside him frenziedly, driving Fëanor wild. Fëanor grabbed fistfuls of that beautiful hair, and felt like he was having a religious experience, feeling an awe he'd never felt in the presence of the Valar, but felt here, now. The man he'd dismissed as a wilting flower mere hours ago was more worthy to be a god than they, Fëanor felt in his heart. The entire room seemed to glow much more brightly, almost as if the only thing that existed was light, and them loving each other in the light, in the glorious fire.  
  
"I love you," Finarfin said, thrusting away. "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you..."  
  
Fëanor let out a strangled sob, and at last he was overcome, an orgasm so powerful he heard himself shriek, a high-pitched noise that evolved into a deeper roar as he pulsed around Finarfin's cock inside him, his cock spurting and spurting all over Finarfin's stomach, some of it getting into Finarfin's hair. Finarfin kissed Fëanor again and Fëanor felt him shudder, felt that hot rush inside him, flooding him with seed.  
  
 _I want to have his baby._ But Fëanor wasn't in heat yet. He didn't know when his next heat cycle would be; they came so randomly.  
  
They kissed and nuzzled, holding hands, and then Finarfin rolled onto his side and pulled Fëanor close. Fëanor wept into Finarfin's chest, shattered by that feeling of connection between them, loving and being loved. This was more than he could have hoped for, seeing Finarfin again. He hadn't even thought it possible that Finarfin would have grown into such a delectable, desirable man.  
  
"I love you too," Fëanor said, and kissed Finarfin's chest, over his heart.  
  
Finarfin pet Fëanor's hair, rocking him. "I've missed you so much."  
  
"I've missed you too."  
  
"Nothing will keep you from me now," Finarfin said. "I will leave our father's palace as soon as possible."  
  
"That means getting married." Fëanor didn't like that idea at all, even though Fingolfin had of course married Anairë and they had managed to make it work, in secret. Fëanor still hated that they had to lie like this, had to hide like this, they couldn't be free and open. He hated it even more, knowing what Nerdanel had told him - and what Mahtan and RAWR had told him themselves, as Unbegotten who awakened under the stars - about the old days, when people could choose their lovers freely, even their own siblings, so long as it was a choice, it was consent.  
  
Finarfin just nodded. "It will be as Fingolfin's marriage is. I don't desire women. Just you." Finarfin kissed the tip of his nose and then he smirked. "And I suppose our brother too, if I'm being honest."  
  
Fëanor made a noise and bit his lip, his cock stirring at that thought.  
  
Finarfin chuckled, feeling Fëanor's cock rise. " _Somebody_ likes that."  
  
"Oh, Ara, what I wouldn't give to watch you and Ñolo together." The thought was indescribably erotic, threatening to make Fëanor come untouched.  
  
"You wouldn't have to give anything, except perhaps an audience." Finarfin leered. "But if you insist, I could use a new sword and shield, since mine was broken earlier."  
  
"Father should have come to me to make you weaponry in the first place." Once again, Fëanor felt that sting of being shut out of Finarfin's life.  
  
"Well, my dear..." Finarfin kissed Fëanor's brow, and his lips slid down to kiss Fëanor's nose again. Fëanor loved those sweet little nose kisses, nuzzling Finarfin's neck, smiling, breathing in that delicious scent that made his cock throb even harder. "We will make up for lost time."  
  
With that, Finarfin rolled Fëanor onto his back again, and slipped into him. Fëanor's arms and legs wrapped around his brother, holding Finarfin with all of him. Finarfin began to thrust slowly, much moreso than before, and they kissed and kissed, tongues licking, playing together between kisses, all sweetness and sensuality. Finarfin sucked on Fëanor's lower lip, bit it, kissed and nibbled Fëanor's neck and throat, kissed and licked the sensitive hollow between neck and shoulder, licked down to a nipple, and suckled hard. His thrusts sped up as he went back and forth between Fëanor's nipples, lapping, fluttering, sucking, tugging the nipple rings with his teeth, sucking again. But he was still much more gentle than before, the slow strokes teasing the magic spot inside Fëanor, sensitized from their previous fuck. Fëanor gasped and moaned with delight as Finarfin thrust slowly and made love to his nipples, taking him to dizzying new heights of pleasure and passion. And when they kissed, it was so deep and hungry that it felt like they were kissing each other's souls. Fëanor had only just gotten to know his youngest brother as a man, but it felt in those moments like he already _knew_ him, could see into him, and he loved what he saw, what he felt, the fire that Finwë's ice had not been able to quench, the _light_ of it.  
  
They kissed and kissed, and Fëanor's need rose, fire calling to fire. He found himself rolling Finarfin onto his back and riding him, bouncing on Finarfin's cock harder, faster. Finarfin slapped Fëanor's ass hard, making Fëanor cry out, and he gripped Fëanor's hips as he thrust up into him, matching and surpassing Fëanor's wild rhythm, making him work. "That's it, big brother. Ride me. Take that cock."  
  
"Ai, Ara..." Fëanor was grabbing his hair again, white-knuckled, hanging on for dear life. "Oh, gods, that's so fucking good..."  
  
"You feel so good to me, brother." Finarfin shuddered, and his hands slid up over Fëanor's hips and stomach and chest, playing with the nipples before they slid back down, and then up, playing with the nipples again. He tugged on both the rings at once, making Fëanor cry out and ride him even harder.  
  
Fëanor rode fast and furious, Finarfin's balls slapping against him, the wet suctioning sound of their fuck almost as loud as their cries. Soon Fëanor couldn't cry out anymore, just pant and gasp for breath, until he climaxed again, making a guttural noise as he shot all over Finarfin's throat and chest and stomach. Finarfin gave a shuddery sigh as he spent into Fëanor again, and Fëanor moaned at the feeling of Finarfin's hot seed. Then Fëanor chuckled as he came down to kiss his brother, playfully lapping up his own seed that was beading down Finarfin's throat.  
  
"It seems I have given you a second necklace," Fëanor said.  
  
Finarfin smiled. "Always the finest craftsmanship, dear heart."  
  
Fëanor kissed his brow, and then he started raining kisses over Finarfin's face, getting the erotic mental image of Finarfin wearing nothing but jewelry Fëanor had made just for him, laid out like a feast. "I want to make you things," Fëanor said. "I want to make you so many things."  
  
"I'd like that." Finarfin kissed him. "But right now, I want you to make love to me."  
  
"Again?" Fëanor laughed, pleased by his brother's appetite.  
  
"Again and again."  
  
They kissed, and Fëanor began to ride again, moaning at the feel of Finarfin's hands exploring him, adoring him, the feel of Finarfin's cock rubbing that magic place inside him just right. He would never get tired of this. He thought of Fingolfin for a moment, hoping Fingolfin wasn't taking the loss of the Alpha battle too hard... and then the thought of including Fingolfin in their play made Fëanor start bouncing away on Finarfin's cock again, desperate. The look of lust Finarfin gave him as he watched Fëanor's body working, watched his cock glide in and out of the slick passage, just made Fëanor even wilder.  
  
It didn't take long for them to come a third time, and then gentle, sweet kisses in the afterglow quickly heated, their cocks rubbing together as they kissed... and then Finarfin rolled Fëanor onto his stomach to resume what he had started earlier, kissing and licking down Fëanor's sensitive spine. Every now and again Finarfin slapped Fëanor's ass, knowing how much he loved that. And when Finarfin took Fëanor from behind, Fëanor rocked back against him as hard as he could, needing another hot, nasty fuck, needing it as fierce and frenzied as Finarfin could give... and oh, how he could give it, grabbing Fëanor's hair, smacking his ass as he took control of him, claimed him, pushed away any last lingering doubt that he was _wanted_.  
  
"Mine," Finarfin growled. "Nothing will ever, ever take you from me again. _Mine._ "  
  
"Yes, Ara, yes..." Fëanor whimpered, shivering. "Yours, brother. Yours..."  
  
"When I leave our father's house, you and I will do this for days."  
  
"Gods, _please_..." Fëanor shivered again. "More..."  
  
There was the briefest worry that they would be caught when that happened, there would be consequences. But then that worry faded from Fëanor's mind when he couldn't think anymore, just feel, just hunger. Right now, this was all that mattered...


	3. Chapter 3

Fëanor and Finarfin were reluctant to part after their night of passion - Finarfin had made good on his promise that Fëanor would get no sleep - but they knew that they could not be discovered together. Fëanor watched, almost ready to cry, as Finarfin opened up the secret door in the floorboards and descended into the tunnels below, to get back to his room.  
  
Fëanor's heavy heart was lightened somewhat when he saw Finwë at the breakfast table looking groggy - Finwë, who had always gotten on Fëanor's case about being more of a night person than a day person, saying "this proves you are a creature of darkness". It was apparent that Finarfin had indeed put quite a potent spell on Finwë, but Finwë seemed none the wiser as he ate his breakfast. "Having my sons in one place seems to help me sleep better," Finwë remarked at the curious look Indis was giving him, but then his glance went only to Fingolfin and Finarfin, as if to say only two of his sons counted.  
  
Fëanor would take exception to that, but then he saw Maedhros glaring at his grandfather, ripping bread with his teeth like it had personally offended him. _That's my boy._  
  
Fëanor followed Maedhros, Maglor and Fingon outside, watching them play with a ball, throwing, catching, kicking, chasing. Maglor was less inclined to sport than his brother and cousin, but still kept up with them, and then Fingolfin was beside him, and discretely took his hand.   
  
"We have great kids," Fëanor said.  
  
"Anairë and I are talking about more," Fingolfin said, and then he spoke into Fëanor's mind. _As you know, that requires your assistance._  
  
Fëanor grinned and squeezed Fingolfin's hand. _It will be my_ pleasure, _brother._  
  
Anairë came out then, walking with Eärwen, smiling and laughing as if they had shared some private joke. Eärwen hung off to the side as Anairë came to join them, hugging Fingolfin warmly - they had become good friends, protecting each other's secret - and then Anairë kissed Fëanor on the cheek and patted him. "Has Fingolfin told you we would like another child?" Anairë asked.  
  
"Yes, lady, he just told me," Fëanor said.  
  
Anairë nodded.  
  
 _It would be nice to have a more discrete way of sending for you than a courier,_ Anairë spoke into both their minds. _It is unfortunate that ósanwe only seems to carry so far._  
  
 _I am sure Fëanor can think of something, perhaps,_ Fingolfin spoke to both of them. _As you know, he's very inventive._  
  
Anairë tried to keep a straight face at that, knowing exactly _what_ Fingolfin was referring to, and Fingolfin gave a little smirk before he looked out at Fingon... who was now balancing the ball on the tip of his nose, spinning it around and around.  
  
Fëanor looked back at Eärwen and he couldn't help but feel terrible for her, as she had to hide her relationship even more than he and his brothers did, unmarried as she was, and where at least a couple of eyebrows had raised around the court. Eärwen gave him a sad little smile and Fëanor, for the first time, felt the urge to walk across the courtyard and hug her, wishing there was something he could do to _fix_ it. If he didn't think it would cause a scandal he'd offer to take her as a second wife, even though he would never touch her - he knew she had no interest in men, beautiful though she was and he wouldn't mind fucking her if she had been interested - but of course, polygamy was against the Laws as much as sodomy and incest was.  
  
And then Finarfin came out, with Manyallë the golden wolfhound following him, and he paused on the step beside Eärwen. They looked at each other, and then at Fëanor, Fingolfin, and Anairë, and the boys playing, and then Finarfin took Eärwen's arm and began to lead her out in the direction of his garden. "Have a talk with me," Finarfin said. Manyallë yipped and trotted after Finarfin and Eärwen.  
  
Fëanor raised an eyebrow; Anairë had a conspiratorial little smirk on her face.  
  
Now Maedhros was trying to spin the ball on his nose, and it kept falling off. He finally threw the ball at Maglor, who also couldn't spin the ball on his nose, but managed to spin it on his fingertip, whistling a tune. Then Maglor tossed the ball to Fingolfin.  
  
"You try, Ana!" Fingon said, nodding.  
  
Fingolfin shook his head.  
  
"Aw, come on." Fëanor tugged at Fingolfin's sleeve. "Humor the boys."  
  
"Shan't," Fingolfin said.  
  
"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Fëanor waved his hand and the ball floated up from the ground. Fëanor couldn't balance it on his nose like Fingon had, and he threw it to Anairë, who gave it a good try before she passed the ball back to Fingon. Fingon started to kick the ball again and Maglor said, "I want to go visit the swan pond. I'm feeling another song come on."  
  
"Awwwwww..." Fingon pouted.  
  
"We could go fishing," Maedhros said.  
  
Fingon's face lit up. "I know where the poles are!" He ran towards the steps. "Race you inside!"  
  
Maedhros and Fingon raced each other inside, and Fingolfin chuckled. "It's kind of Nelya to let Findekáno tag along with him like that," Fingolfin said.  
  
"I imagine Ara would have done the same if Father..." Fëanor's voice trailed off and he once again felt that bitter sting of not having gotten to be involved in Finarfin's life, growing up.  
  
Fingolfin sighed, grabbed the ball, and put it on his nose. Fëanor's laughter rang out, delighted that Fingolfin was doing something that he thought made himself look like an idiot, to distract Fëanor from sadness. And when the ball fell, Fëanor caught it.  
  
Holding the sphere in his hands, an idea shaped in the back of Fëanor's mind. A communication device that wouldn't necessarily be obvious, could easily be disguised, like a child's toy. Like a ball. But how...  
  
Fëanor was once again distracted by Maedhros and Fingon running back out, armed with fishing poles. They grabbed Maglor and proceeded to drag him off in the direction of the garden, the grove, and beyond it, the swan pond... just as Finarfin was coming back with the swan-maiden.  
  
Fëanor had a pretty good idea what that talk was about, especially when Finarfin and Eärwen went to see Finwë and Indis. That suspicion was confirmed when it was dinner time and once again there was a lavish feast - ten courses, not as grand as the fourteen courses of Finarfin's birthday but still impressive - and yet another cake. Before the meal commenced, Finwë rose and banged with a spoon on his wine glass.  
  
"My youngest son has an announcement," Finwë said. "Hear him."  
  
All eyes were on Finarfin, who rose from the table, bowing to Finwë before their father sat, with a nod of acknowledgment. Finarfin looked around, took a few seconds to compose his thoughts, and then he spoke, "I have asked the Lady Eärwen, daughter of Olwë, to be my wife, and she has graciously accepted." Finarfin looked at Eärwen, who smiled and nodded, and then she rose, clasping his hand with hers.  
  
Eärwen spoke then. "For many years I have remained alone, pursuing a chaste life in devotion to the Valar. But Arafinwë is himself so devoted to the Valar that it made an impression upon my heart. It is as if the gods made us for one another."  
  
Even though Fëanor knew the words were a ruse, and Eärwen's devotion was to Anairë's cunt, he nonetheless felt a flare of jealousy that he hoped nobody at the table would see - or smell. _Get your hands off my Alpha, woman,_ Fëanor screamed internally. And yet he understood it had to be this way. If Finarfin did not marry, Finwë would eventually arrange a marriage for him, and it was better for Finarfin to take a wife of his own choosing - especially one who just happened to prefer women, and would not care if he laid with men - than to marry whoever Finwë chose and risk a scandal that would blow everything apart. At least this was convenient, with Anairë being Eärwen's lover.  
  
Or as convenient as it could be. A heavy feeling came over Fëanor as Finarfin went on. "We will be married in a month's time, and from there we will be making our home in Alqualondë, the land of her people, the Teleri. It is my hope that this match will not just enrich us both spiritually and be fruitful with heirs, but it will create a strong alliance between the Noldor and Teleri, for the greater good of our people."  
  
Fëanor was almost impressed - almost impressed, because he was still angry even as he knew it was irrational and he needed to get a grip. Finarfin was clearly much more comfortable with the game of thrones than he was, and Fëanor wondered exactly how long Finarfin had been plotting this strategy, knowing it not only was the perfect facade to sin with his brothers and keep Anairë and Eärwen together, which in turn helped them... but was also a match that Finwë could ill refuse. Especially when Fëanor knew, if Ingwë ever tried to make a coup - something he knew Finwë lived in fear of, though Finwë did not know Fëanor knew the real reason why, because Ingwë had been scorned as Finwë got more intensely religious - and before now Olwë would have been more likely to support Ingwë and now he would necessarily have to back Finwë if it came to that.  
  
Yes, Finarfin knew exactly what he was doing, and it was downright _scary_.  
  
And yet Alqualondë was quite a distance. It was not an impossible distance, and Fëanor knew he had no right to complain when he vacationed in Formenos at least a couple times a year, which was even farther away... but Alqualondë still felt too far for his liking, even as Fëanor knew that, too, was part of Finarfin's game - to get as far away from Finwë as he could.  
  
Fingolfin and Anairë rose from the table. "A fine match," Fingolfin said.  
  
"I am so happy for you, my dear friend," Anairë said, lifting her glass. "Though I have long admired your intense devotion to the Valar, I think they were wise to admonish us to marry - you see how happy my own marriage is -" Anairë put an arm around Fingolfin, and Fëanor felt ready to scream, even as he knew that too was a ruse. "And you honor them more by taking the mate they have clearly destined for you." Anairë raised her glass higher and said, "To the Valar! May they keep us in their light."  
  
"To the Valar," Fingolfin said more quietly, and drank.  
  
"To the Valar," the voices echoed around the table. Fëanor muttered his without feeling, and the wine was bitter in his mouth.  
  
Finwë raised an eyebrow at Fëanor. "Why are you not happy for Arafinwë, Fëanor?"  
  
Now it was Fëanor's turn to lie. "She is too beautiful for him. It is too bad we cannot take more than one wife, or I would have had her when I married Nerdanel." It would get him into trouble, but not as much trouble as the real reason. _Forgive me,_ Fëanor spoke into Finarfin's mind, hoping he understood the necessity of the lie... and that it was indeed a lie, because as beautiful as the lady was, Fëanor thought Finarfin was the most beautiful Elf in the room next to Fingolfin himself.  
  
Finwë glared. "Coveting your own brother's intended wife? That is a most disgracefully sinful thought, Fëanor. You will repent of it at once. Go make an offering to Lord Manwë when the meal is over."  
  
After the meal, Fëanor poured wine over Manwë's shrine with servants watching... and then when nobody was looking, he pissed on it.  
  
  
_  
  
  
That night Fëanor lay on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed, trying not to think about Finarfin's impending wedding and how it would change everything. He knew, of course, that it would also protect him and Fingolfin, as well as Anairë and Eärwen. He knew that it was necessary, and that Finarfin was wise for his age and planned well. But he was concerned... and jealous. He wanted to take Finarfin, Fingolfin, and their children, and just _go._ Where, he did not know.  
  
He heard movement under the floor, and then the floorboard opened and both Fingolfin and Finarfin were ascending the steps. Fingolfin was wearing a bag on a sling that a bottle of wine was peeking out of, and Finarfin was carrying a dish of some sort, and when they pulled themselves up out of the hatch to the floor of Fëanor's guest room, Fëanor saw that the dish had cake in it. He couldn't help but smile.  
  
Fingolfin quickly closed the floorboard and put down the bag of wine, and Finarfin set the dish of cake down on the table by Fëanor's bed, and they began to undress each other, putting on a show for Fëanor. Fëanor stroked himself as he watched them kiss with each garment removed, watched them caress the exposed flesh. Fëanor moaned, stroking harder when they were completely nude and came closer, kissing deeply as cock rubbed cock, and Fëanor let out a whimper as Fingolfin took his and Finarfin's cocks into his hand and began to stroke, as one hand played over Finarfin's body.  
  
"Have the two of you had each other before?" Fëanor asked.  
  
"No," Fingolfin said. "He wanted his first full-fledged time to be with you, and I encouraged it. But now..." He pulled Finarfin into another kiss, then he pinched one of Finarfin's nipples before he made his way over to the bed.  
  
"I put a spell on Father again," Finarfin said, grinning as he sauntered over to the bed.  
  
"I _almost_ feel sorry for him," Fëanor said. "Almost. Get over here, both of you."  
  
Fingolfin picked up the bag of wine and once he was on the bed, he pulled the wine out of the bag, and three clean glasses. There was something else in the bag too, but Fëanor was distracted by Fingolfin opening the bottle and sniffing the cork, then passing it around, satisfied.  
  
"Dorwinion," Fingolfin explained. "I brought it with me when I arrived but I've been saving it for this occasion."  
  
"You knew about the engagement?" Fëanor asked.  
  
Fingolfin nodded. "Arafinwë asked me weeks ago, just to get my opinion on whether or not it was a good idea."  
  
"I don't like it," Fëanor admitted honestly. "But I will tolerate it for our sakes."  
  
"I'm sorry," Finarfin said, and kissed the tip of Fëanor's nose, then his mouth. "But Fëanor, you should _see_ Alqualondë. It is to the sea as Formenos is to the forest. It would be good for you and the boys to spend some time there." Finarfin stroked Fëanor's face. "Please don't be angry with me, brother."  
  
Fëanor took Finarfin's hand and kissed it. The sweet expression on Finarfin's face - the love in his eyes - went right to Fëanor's heart, and he put Finarfin's hand on his heart for a moment, taking Fingolfin's hand with his other hand. "I love you, Arafinwë. And you, Ñolo. Love will find a way." He wanted to believe that. His _will_ had a way.  
  
Fingolfin poured the wine, and once they were each holding a glass, Fingolfin toasted, "To love. May it keep us together."  
  
They clinked glasses and sipped, and then they took turns kissing - Fëanor and Fingolfin, Fingolfin and Finarfin, Finarfin and Fëanor. Fëanor was already more than ready to be fucked, but something told him he was in for even more of a wild time than last night.  
  
That was confirmed when Fingolfin, who was normally not clumsy at all, "accidentally" spilled wine down Fëanor's chest. "Oh my," Fingolfin said. "My _sincere apologies._ " With a wicked gleam in his eye, he handed his wine glass to Finarfin and then he leaned in and began to lap up the wine he'd spilled, including and especially over Fëanor's nipples, while Finarfin watched, his already-hard cock stiffening even more.  
  
Fëanor moaned with each lash of Fingolfin's tongue, and when Fingolfin was done cleaning the wine from his skin, then they kissed, and in that kiss, Fëanor "accidentally" spilled wine over Fingolfin's chest. "Oh dear," Fëanor said. Now it was his turn to lick the wine from Fingolfin's body, his own cock throbbing as Fingolfin gasped and panted, and when Fingolfin cried out, Finarfin silenced him with a kiss.  
  
Fingolfin pushed Fëanor onto his back, and poured the rest of his wine glass out - some over Fëanor's mouth, with Fëanor lapping it like he was drinking from a fountain, and then from Fëanor's throat down over his chest and stomach. Fingolfin leaned down then and licked up the wine, licking and licking, making Fëanor whimper and writhe, cock aching, his hole gushing slick. When his body was clean of wine, Finarfin "accidentally" toppled over his glass, pouring wine right into Fëanor's navel. Now Finarfin leaned in and sipped the wine directly from Fëanor's navel, tongue lapping it, and he poured the rest of his wine over Fëanor's cock. Fingolfin and Finarfin licked that together, slow, deliberate licks that made Fëanor howl, grabbing their hair, gasping for breath. Nothing had ever felt so incredible as two tongues licking his cock at once, and he was about to find out it just got better.  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin kissed, and then Fingolfin sat up and grabbed the bottle of wine. "I do believe there is enough left in this bottle for another round of drinks," Fingolfin said. He handed the bottle to Fëanor with a smirk. "Would you do us the honor of pouring it, brother?"  
  
"Certainly," Fëanor said, and he shoved Finarfin down and poured out the rest of the bottle all over Finarfin's body.  
  
Now it was Fëanor and Fingolfin who licked Finarfin from his throat down over his chest and nipples to his stomach and at last, his thighs, cock, and balls. Finarfin thrashed around, gasping, panting, as Fëanor and Fingolfin spent a long time licking his cock, one sucking his cock slowly as the other licked and sucked at his balls, then trading places, then licking his cock together some more, chasing the clear flow that dripped down the shaft. At last Fëanor and Fingolfin's tongues rubbed together, sharing the flow between them as Finarfin watched, moaning. Then Fëanor and Fingolfin kissed Finarfin in turn.  
  
Fëanor was definitely ready to get fucked, feeling like he could climb the walls in frustrated need. "What now?" he asked.  
  
"Cake," Finarfin said, gesturing to the dish he'd brought.  
  
Before Fëanor could protest, Finarfin shoved a piece of cake in Fëanor's mouth. Then he presented his fingers to Fëanor's lips, and Fëanor licked and sucked the icing from Finarfin's fingers.  
  
Fingolfin fed Finarfin cake from his hand, and then Finarfin was licking Fingolfin's palm clean, licking and sucking on Fingolfin's fingers and thumb, and it was all Fëanor could do to not come just from watching. Fëanor took a piece of cake and fed Fingolfin from his fingers, moaning as Fingolfin sucked on his fingers, and with his other hand he fed Finarfin more cake, his cock throbbing as Finarfin licked his fingers clean, heat in his eyes.  
  
Fëanor pulled Finarfin into a kiss and then Finarfin stuffed more cake in Fëanor's mouth. After cleaning Finarfin's hand and fingers again, he ate cake from Fingolfin's fingers, and licked and sucked Fingolfin's fingers, before Fingolfin kissed him. Fingolfin's other hand played over Fëanor's body, resting on Fëanor's cock, and Fëanor looked over at Fingolfin's hard cock, dripping. Fëanor licked his lips. "There's something I'd much rather eat than cake," Fëanor said, looking into Fingolfin's star-blue eyes.  
  
"I'm sure," Fingolfin said. "But as you know, we are celebrating right now. There is still more cake."  
  
"We can't let all this cake go to waste," Finarfin said, nodding.  
  
Fëanor let out an animal noise through clenched teeth. "Damn the cake, just fuck me..."  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin looked at each other with a grin like they'd been waiting for this moment. Fëanor watched as Finarfin reached into the bag that had carried the bottle of wine and the glasses, and pulled out a length of rope. Before Fëanor knew what was happening, Finarfin and Fingolfin were tying his wrists to the bedposts with the rope.  
  
"Do you want us to stop?" Fingolfin asked, looking a little concerned.  
  
Fëanor's cock spoke for him, jolting, flowing, as more slick gushed out of his passage. Fëanor heard himself making a high-pitched, urgent noise, going out of his mind with lust at the reality of being bound and vulnerable to his brothers, to do with as they would.  
  
"Don't stop," Fëanor rasped, cock throbbing. He made a deeper, more feral noise through his grit teeth. "Damn you..."  
  
Fingolfin chuckled, and Finarfin laughed aloud. Finarfin stroked Fëanor's cheek once he was securely tied. "You see, Fëanor, cake is very important." With that, Finarfin took what was left of the cake, and dumped it onto Fëanor's naked body. Then he began to mash the cake into Fëanor's skin, spreading it out over his chest, stomach, and thighs. Fëanor made a little whine at the slippery feel of the cake, and the touch of Finarfin's hand.  
  
With that, Finarfin and Fingolfin dove down and began to eat the cake off of Fëanor's body, each stroke of their tongues more and more exquisite, sensitizing him, until he was quivering, whimpering, driven mad with pleasure and want. Every few bits of cake, Finarfin and Fingolfin kissed, sensually sharing it between them, teasing Fëanor further with the erotic sight of them enjoying each other too. They made two rounds of his body to make sure they got his skin really clean of any crumbs or lingering traces of icing, and of course, to tease him. Fëanor was writhing, panting for it by the time they were finished.  
  
"That was delicious," Finarfin said. "And the cake was pretty good too."  
  
Fingolfin chuckled, and so did Fëanor.  
  
Then Finarfin asked, "You know what goes well with cake? Milk."  
  
It had been one thing for Finarfin and Fingolfin to lick the cake from his nipples simultaneously. Fëanor almost wept as Finarfin and Fingolfin suckled his nipples at the same time, the sensation so intense he almost came, but instead they kept pushing him closer to that edge, keeping him there, the tension in him building and building, wild, frenzied excitement. Fëanor loved it. As badly as he needed release, he never wanted his brothers to stop sucking his nipples. It didn't just feel incredible, but the sight of them suckling together, drinking his milk...  
  
"Gods..." Fëanor arched, gasping for breath. "Oh, gods, please, fuck me... fuck me, I need it, _please_..."  
  
"Mmmm, I'm sure you do," Fingolfin said, taking a few teasing licks at the nipple before suckling again. "Mmmmmm." He closed his eyes with pleasure as he sipped at Fëanor's milk, enough of it flowing that it was seeping from the corners of his mouth. He licked the nipple some more and resumed sucking, harder. Finarfin took that as his cue to lap it a bit and then suck harder too.  
  
"Fuck..." Fëanor writhed against the restraints again, wishing he could grab their hair. "Fuck, just fucking fuck me! _Please_!"  
  
Finarfin and Fingolfin looked at each other, another conspiratorial look like they'd been planning something. Fëanor whimpered as he watched them kiss again, and then Fingolfin asked, "Well, Fëanor, the question is, which one of us should fuck you?"  
  
" _Yes._ " Fëanor made another desperate noise through clenched teeth. "Either, both of you at the same time... just give it to me."  
  
"As you know, you would have to be stretched a bit first to accommodate us both at once," Fingolfin said. "I shan't hurt you. That means one of us first, before both of us." Fingolfin looked at Finarfin. "Shall we settle this the way we discussed, brother?"  
  
"Mhm." Finarfin grabbed Fingolfin and pulled him into another kiss.  
  
Fingolfin rolled Finarfin onto his back and Fëanor watched, tied up, as Fingolfin and Finarfin began to rub cock to cock, kissing, caressing each other's bodies. Not being able to stroke himself as he watched his fantasy come to live was like torture, his cock getting harder and harder, aching to be touched, to be pleased, but all he could do was watch... and be teased, in that watching.  
  
Fingolfin and Finarfin knew exactly what it was doing to Fëanor, now and again giving him sly looks before their focus turned back to each other, kissing. Fingolfin informed Fëanor, "Whichever one of us finishes last gets to fuck you."  
  
"It will be my pleasure defeating you again," Finarfin said, kissing and licking Fingolfin's neck.  
  
Fingolfin kissed Finarfin roughly, and began to rub against him harder and faster. "Don't be so sure of yourself, Arafinwë."  
  
Hard cock rubbed hard cock, and soon their cocks were glistening, cock dripping into cock, streamers clinging between them. After a little while Finarfin shoved Fingolfin onto his back and rubbed against him more insistently, and Fingolfin matched his rhythm... and started to brush his fingers down Finarfin's spine, smiling wickedly as Finarfin gasped and shuddered. Finarfin's response to that was to growl and bite Fingolfin's neck, then his shoulder. Then Fingolfin rolled Finarfin onto his back again and kissed Finarfin more tenderly, sensually, licking and nibbling down Finarfin's neck to his chest. Fëanor moaned as he watched Fingolfin lap at Finarfin's nipple, and suckle. "Not as delicious as Fëanor's, but still lovely," Fingolfin husked, his thumb rubbing the nipple as he turned his head to the other, Finarfin and Fëanor both moaning together as Fingolfin licked and sucked that nipple too.  
  
They rubbed and rubbed, every few minutes one rolling the other onto their back, a dominance contest between them. Fëanor watched the rhythm build until at last they were grinding against each other frenziedly, kissing hungrily, like they wanted to eat each other alive. Finarfin was on top now, and the fierce look on his face made Fëanor sure that he would win, as Fingolfin got more vocal, quivering... but then Fingolfin pushed the bead in the ring in his cock into the slit of Finarfin's cock, and Finarfin cried out, and Fingolfin gave him a predatory grin before his mouth latched onto a nipple again.  
  
"Oh gods." Finarfin cried out again, and dug his nails into Fingolfin's hips. "That's not fair, Ñolo..."  
  
"What was it you said yesterday? I believe it was, 'I fight to win.'" Fingolfin's grin got bigger, before he kissed Finarfin again. "So do I, Ara."  
  
Fëanor howled, his cock and hole both throbbing, desperate for relief as he watched the bead in the ring in Fingolfin's cock push in and out of the slit in Finarfin's cockhead, fucking him, relenting after a few more thrusts, cock rubbing against Finarfin's harder, faster. Now Fingolfin was sucking on Finarfin's nipples again and Finarfin grabbed Fingolfin's hair, bucking against him, panting, and Fëanor knew he was going to lose control.  
  
Finarfin gave a wild, fierce cry as he spent, cock shooting all over Fingolfin's cock - Fëanor cried out too, the sight the most erotic thing he'd ever seen in his life, and then Fingolfin's cock coming all over Finarfin's cock a few seconds later just made it even hotter, cocks spurting together, his brothers kissing as they shuddered with their release, moaning into the kiss. Fingolfin collected some of the seed on his fingers and stuck it in Finarfin's mouth, and Fëanor moaned again as he watched Finarfin taste their combined seed from Fingolfin's fingers, then Finarfin did the same, scooping up seed and feeding it to Fingolfin... and then Fingolfin and Finarfin had seed to feed Fëanor, and the taste of his brothers' cream combined was a delightful nectar.  
  
Fëanor let out a little whimper as he licked his lips, savoring it. "Are you going to fuck me now?"  
  
Fingolfin chuckled. "So impatient, Fëanáro."  
  
Fëanor gave him a look. Fingolfin smiled at him indulgently, stroking Fëanor's cheek and chin as if he were petting a cat, before he and Finarfin undid the ropes binding Fëanor's wrists. Fëanor grabbed Fingolfin and kissed him hard, and then he kissed Finarfin just as hard, and glared at them again. " _Now._ "  
  
"So demanding," Fingolfin teased, and then he grabbed Fëanor by the hair and got him into position on his hands and knees in front of Finarfin. Fingolfin, still holding onto Fëanor's hair, got behind him on his knees, and Fëanor moaned as he felt the tip of Fingolfin's cock at his entrance. "But now we get to make the demands here." Fingolfin slapped Fëanor's ass, hard, and then he pushed inside Fëanor's slick, dripping channel.  
  
Fëanor cried out when Fingolfin was all the way inside, and then again when Fingolfin began to thrust, taking him hard and fast. Before Fëanor could cry out yet again, Finarfin shoved his hard cock in Fëanor's mouth and held Fëanor's head in place as he started to gently thrust into Fëanor's mouth. "Oh, _fuck,_ " Finarfin called out as Fëanor's mouth wrapped around his cock, and Fëanor sucked him hard, hungry for it, wanting it.  
  
It was the biggest thrill of Fëanor's life to date to have Fingolfin fucking him from behind, while Finarfin's cock was in his mouth. He loved being taken like this by his brothers, dominated, used... and yet it didn't feel degrading at all. He felt taken care of, loved. In his submission was the greatest freedom Fëanor had ever known, perfectly safe with the two men he loved, _trusted_... and who knew just what he liked. Fëanor's hips rocked back at Fingolfin's, matching Fingolfin's thrusts, fucking himself on his brother's cock. And Fëanor sucked Finarfin, devouring him, relishing the feel of that thick cock in his mouth, watching Finarfin tremble and gasp, hearing his cries. Fëanor loved the sound of Fingolfin grunting and growling as he drove into Fëanor's channel with savage, punishing thrusts, loved the sound of their hips slapping together, the wet suctioning sound of Fingolfin's cock gliding in and out of him. Fëanor whimpered with his mouth full, worshiping Finarfin's cock with his mouth, worshiping Finarfin's body with his eyes. That glorious hair... Fëanor couldn't resist reaching out to touch it.  
  
"Oh, gods, that's so good," Finarfin moaned, and Fëanor moaned back as he heard Finarfin panting, watched Finarfin shudder again, closing his eyes. Then Finarfin's eyes opened and he looked at Fëanor eagerly sucking his cock, looked across at Fingolfin pounding away. "Fuck him harder."  
  
Fingofin's pace sped up, driving into Fëanor even harder. The sweet rubbing of the ring in the head of Fingolfin's cock was working its magic on that place inside Fëanor and he was _right there_ , his body quivering as Fingolfin kept him on that edge. Fingolfin growled and pulled Fëanor's hair again. "Suck your brother's cock, Fëanor. You don't get to come until Ara spills in your mouth."  
  
Fëanor cried out with his mouth full and sucked Finarfin even more furiously than before. Soon he and Finarfin were both trembling together, and the sound of Finarfin moaning as he too got closer threatened to bring Fëanor off without permission. But then, finally, Finarfin let go with an, "Ai, Fëanor!", shooting into Fëanor's mouth.  
  
"Mmmmmm." Fëanor swallowed it down greedily; Finarfin's seed was so delicious. "Mmmmm, _mmmmmm._ "  
  
"Oh gods." Finarfin shivered again, gave a shuddery sigh as he shot off another load. Fëanor almost choked, there was so much of it.  
  
Fingolfin lay down then on Fëanor's back, pounding him as hard as he could, and grabbed Fëanor's cheek, tilting his head so they could kiss. In that kiss, Fingolfin sharing Finarfin's seed with him, Fëanor gave into his own climax, whimpering, and soon Fingolfin was coming too, groaning into the kiss. Their tongues licked together playfully before they kissed again, and again. Finarfin moaned and Fëanor saw he was stroking himself - already hard again - as he watched them kiss, tasting his seed.  
  
"Fuck, that's beautiful," Finarfin whispered.  
  
"You're beautiful," Fëanor said, and now he rose up to kiss Finarfin, who let go of his cock for a moment and wrapped his arms around Fëanor, returning the kiss madly, deeply. When they pulled apart, Fingolfin leaned in to kiss Finarfin too, and Fëanor's cock hardened right up again at the sight of them kissing. When Fingolfin noticed he pulled Fëanor into another kiss and reached down to take their hard cocks into his fist, stroking them together.  
  
"Oh gods." Fëanor let out a little whine, and shuddered. "Oh gods, I need it so bad..." He wasn't even in heat. He had a feeling he was going to be even more insatiable during his next heat cycle.  
  
Finarfin pulled Fëanor back towards him, and patted his hips. Fëanor straddled Finarfin's hips and sank down on Finarfin's hard cock. They both moaned as Finarfin filled him, and then they kissed again. Fëanor began to work his hips, going slowly on Finarfin's cock, teasing them both. Then Finarfin made the "come here" gesture to Fingolfin, who drew in closer, positioning himself behind Fëanor.  
  
Fëanor screamed as Fingolfin began to push inside too. It was a tight fit, with those big cocks inside him, and Fingolfin went slowly, pushing in bit by bit, letting Fëanor adjust. At last they were both inside him and the three cried out together and joined hands. Nothing had ever felt so right, and when Fingolfin and Finarfin both held him Fëanor could have wept for joy.  
  
"I love you," Fëanor said.  
  
"We love you, Fëanáro." Fingolfin once again tilted Fëanor's face so they could kiss.  
  
"So much," Finarfin added, pulling Fëanor into a kiss.  
  
Then they began to thrust. The tight fit of two cocks inside him just intensified the pressure and friction, the deliciousness of his sensitive insides being rubbed. Finarfin and Fingolfin's cocks found the perfect rhythm of push and pull, and the thought of their cocks rubbing together inside him - the knowledge that they weren't just making love to him, but also making love to each other, cock rubbing cock - made Fëanor moan and tremble. "More," Fëanor panted. "Oh gods, more, please, more..."  
  
Finarfin groaned, and Fingolfin began to kiss the back of Fëanor's neck and shoulder, knowing how sensitive he was there. Finarfin leaned up to kiss Fëanor's nipples, tongue lashing feverishly, suckling hard, fingers tugging one nipple ring as his mouth worked on the other. Every now and again Finarfin's fingers would collect the milk beading down Fëanor's chest and he'd stick them in Fingolfin's mouth for Fingolfin to lick and suck before tilting Fëanor's mouth to claim it with a kiss, letting Fëanor taste his own milk.  
  
The sensation built and built, the desire burned and burned hotter until it felt like this was the only thing in the universe that existed, the three of them and their love for each other, their lust, their passion. Fëanor couldn't get enough of his brothers' cocks rubbing together inside him, pleasuring him, but soon he was right there again, wanting this to last but needing to come, needing to shatter...  
  
...and shatter he did, spurting and spurting all over Finarfin's chest and stomach and throat and face and hair - as he shot over Finarfin's face, Finarfin lapped it like he was drinking from a fountain, which made Fëanor's orgasm all the stronger. Then Finarfin and Fingolfin were coming inside him together, and the feel of their hot seed flooding him, so much of it that it was dripping out of him, made Fëanor shoot off another arc of his cream, hitting the canopy of the bed, laughing and crying as the euphoria throbbed through him.  
  
"Oh, my love." Fingolfin sighed, tender little kisses on Fëanor's shoulder as they sank down together. "My beautiful love."  
  
"Oh, gods, that was amazing." Fëanor felt the tears stream down his face, his smile so big it almost hurt. His entire body felt like it was made out of jelly, especially his legs. He was a stone and a feather all at once, and everything was so bright. "You are the best brothers."  
  
"This was the best birthday," Finarfin said, chuckling.  
  
"And yet I feel like I got a present." Fëanor gave him a tender little kiss.  
  
Fingolfin eventually slipped out of him and the three found their way into a cuddle-pile, all holding each other. Some of Finarfin's glorious hair was wrapped around Fëanor like a blanket, and Fëanor sighed, feeling as safe and cozy as he'd ever felt.  
  
Soon he'd have to go back to Nerdanel, and soon, Finarfin would have to marry Eärwen, and Finarfin would go to Alqualondë. It was uncertain how things would change, only that they were going to. But right now, what was certain was that the brothers loved each other, and things had gotten quite a bit more interesting... and fun. Fëanor was looking forward to spending more time with Finarfin in the future, and exploring passion with him.  
  
Finarfin kissed Fëanor's brow, and the embrace tightened around him. "All will be well," Finarfin assured him. "We have each other. So long as we have that, we are unbreakable."


End file.
